The Forgotten Son
by Lord-Of-Metal
Summary: After the completion of the Great Crusade, the Master of Mankind crafted for each of his precious sons something far more valuable then any weapon, army or power. A family. Each of them had a son and daughter along with a wife and lover. However, one of them would never see his demigod father, nor feel his mothers touch... This is his tale. (Warhammer High AU)
1. The Slaughter Begins

**Author's Note:** This fanfic WILL be a bit slow and so will the updates, but I will attempt to add another chapter every two/three weeks at the longest.

 **FYI:** Some Warhammer Fantasy themes WILL be in this story.

Enough of me babbling, Enjoy

* * *

A surge of fresh electrosteroids coursed through Thulsa's veins as he snapped the neck of another member of the Hive-Gang. The spurt of stimm-infused blood that came from the dead mans mouth did not interest him in the slightest for the moment of death was far more intoxicating. Thulsa felt his implanted chem-glands release a fresh mixture of grave lotus and adrenalight right into his withered heart.

A vibro-blade lanced into Thulsa's right thigh, stopped with ease by the talior-made carapace he wore. Almost by reflex he contemptuously lashed out with his blade-tines, tearing off the offenders face in a single blow. As another blow skidded ineffectually off of his artificer-wrought carapace breastplate, the chem-warrior looked at the tattered web of flesh between his taloned finger's and casually flicked it away. A bullet glanced off his armoured shoulder and Thulsa shook from his bloodsoaked reverie to focus on the swirling melee around him.

With a snarl he smashed the pommel of his mono-edged longsword into the skull of the nearest ganger, knocking him into his fellows. A backhanded swing decapitated another and Thulsa's armour was drenched in the arterial fountain. He was driven on by his love of the kill, hacking and slashing left and right with insane abandon. His drug-infused strength caused every stroke of his blade rent life from another victim.

He broke from his frenzied assault as the few remaining members of the gang ran in terror, vanishing through broken walls and shattered windows with ease. It was easy to guess that they were high-tailing it to their hideout and judging from their frenzied pace it was close. With a mental thought he opened a vox channel via the micro-bead implanted in his ear.

 **"Bring the Occulus Infernii around, the location of the target has been found"** The blood-slaked killer spoke, sheathing his longsword as he stalked off.

(Insert Line Here)

It was ironic really, the groups little hideout was once a thriving hotel. Twenty stories tall, each of its windows had been boarded over save for a tiny firing slit at the bottom of each. The only way in was through its lobby, the glass long replaced by thick pieces of plas-steel welded into place. In any case, it would be a slaughter.

"One hell of a tough nut to crack" Klovis muttered, turning his head and igniting his lho-stick with the pilot light of his hand flamer. Klovis was an old one-eyed Redemptionist Firebrand who was far past his prime with a long-running history with Thulsa. His single eye glared out at the world, its once flawless emerald glow long faded. Bald, he wore a loose-fitting flakweave robe stained with blood and an full-face rebreather painted like a skull which currently hung low around his neck. He leaned on an old eviscerator, its frame dented and scorched from countless years of heavy use. Finally, his hand flamer was chained to his belt and hung down his side, countless kill-marks adorning it.

 **"We both know that I will only leave when I have her head on my belt"** Thulsa replied, loading a crossbow pistol as he did so. "I've know exactly what goes through your thick skull, after all, I raised you since you were a mewling babe no bigger then a pile of grox shit" Klovis said with a grin. **"Do shut up"** Thulsa emotionlessly growled back at the old priest, leaning across the picnic table and punching him in the arm as he did so.

Klovis chuckled, rubbing his shoulder in the process. Thulsa stood, holstering the pocket-sized crossbow in the small of his back. **"We are going to kill that traitorous whore and you are going to help me regardless"** Thulsa growled.

Nodding his head as he took a final drag of his lho-stick, Klovis grinned. Thulsa walked off, pausing only to call over his shoulder **"And try not to die old man"** as he vanished down a back alleyway.

Klovis chuckled at Thulsa's response, shouldering his massive eviscerator as he walked away in the opposite direction. The low whine of his power armour beneath his robe just audible over his prayer to the full moon high above.

 _"Destruction cometh; and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none"_

(Insert Line Here)

Thulsa strode down the rusted catwalk, his companions following in silence. The light of the rising sun beamed down the cracks in the stone tunnel, stark contrast to the darkness that enswathed them. Thulsa's warp-enhanced sight pierced the gloom with ease, his eye's glowing with baleful crimson.

He reached into the depths of his flakweave trenchcoat and withdrew a krak grenade, not even sparing a glance at his followers as he adheared it to a weakened section of wall and thumbed its activation rune.

As the grenades clockwork timer counted down, Thulsa turned and lazily walked back the way he came as he motioned for Gerrock to take the lead.

Gerrock was a towering Ogryn Bone'Ead who Thulsa had found on a backwater frontier world a solid decade before, and more dead then alive to boot. After he had nursed the abhuman back from the grasp of death the duo had become utterly unseperable, Thulsa's kindness repaid a hundred times over.

In any case, Gerrock moved ahead, interposing himself between Thulsa and the grenade, bringing his brute shield up just as the grenades lengthy timer hit zero.

The resulting explosion sent chunks of stone and plascrete flying, more then a fair few slamming into Gerrock's raised shield as a deluge of shrapnel flew past. Even before the ringing of the detonation had faded from his ears, Thulsa pushed past the looming Ogryn and drew his pistol crossbow, cocking it with his free hand as he stepped through the improvised doorway. Ahead of them lay a reinforced bulkhead door, charred by the blast and dented from the shrapnel but otherwise intact. Thulsa looked to another of his companions and motioned him foward.

Kaiser, a xeno mercenary that owned Thulsa a life-long blood debt from the gladiatorial pits of the Soul Nexus, slithered fowards. The Ssyth's lower set of arm's rested on the hilt of a curved power sword and a splinter pistolwhilst his upper set clutched an arcane heat lance close to his chest.

Wordlessly, the scaled xeno leveled the heat lance at the door and pulled the trigger.

The furnace-roar of the weapon pierced the dank air as an ionised beam of gold-hued laser lanced out at the bulkhead. The resulting impact tore through the foot-thick steel door like paper along with ten feet of bedrock behind it.

Even as the molten stone pooled on the floor, Thulsa stepped through, crossbow pistol at the ready. A ganger, bearing the same crude ork-based mark as the ones he butchered in the alleyway on his jacket, turned the corner. The gangers head snapped back, Thulsa's crossbow bolt finding its mark the the gangers eye-socket before he fell with a thud.

Thulsa dropped the crossbow and drew a pair of heavy-gauge autopistol's from the holsters on his thighs. As he walked onwards, he called over his shoulder **"Go loud"** breaking into a jog as he finished. Klovis chuckled darkly, hefting his eviscerator into a two-handed grip as it howled into life.

This would be a slaughter...


	2. Escalation

A ganger fell, rent from gullet to groin by Kaiser's shimmering power sword as his guts spilled out onto the floor like a fleshy carpet. Gerrock was far from idle, slamming his brute shield into the midsection of another ganger before bringing his massive ripper gun down of his fallen victim. Klovis brought his screaming eviscerator into a horrific strike, ripping a ganger in half as he attempted to hide behind a steel pillar.

A bloodbath, plain and simple.

The gang were either severely down-on-their-luck or newly created, Thulsa's thoughts went along the second option judging from the general status of the opposition. Blasting a ganger point-blank in the face, sending chunks of brain across the room, Thulsa's fought back-to-back with another of his companions, Morr.

Towering a full head over Thulsa, Morr was one of the dreaded dark eldar Incubi, his monsterous klaive sweeping in unstoppable arcs, passing effortlessly through thick leather and human torso's with utter impunity. Not a full-fledged Incubus, having yet to slay a craftworld warrior in single combat, he had joined Thulsa's motley crew around five years before.

A group of drugged-up zealot's barged into the room, chainswords and flails spinning madly as they joined the swirling melee. Thulsa turned, both of his autopistols roaring on full auto, the dum-dum rounds punching through heavy leather and the flesh and bone beneath with ease. The nearest one, his left arm blown of by Thulsa's deadly aim, leaped toward him only to be bisected by Morr's deadly strike. Casting both of his autopistol's aside, Thulsa drew his mono-edged longsword from its sheath.

With a mental thought, a fresh batch of concerntrated electrosteroids coursed through his system. His muscles swelling with might, Thulsa grabbed the nearest zealot by the throat and extended his blade-tines. With a vicious motion he ripped the zealots throat out, drenching his flakweave trenchcoat in the crimson deluge as he dropped the dying man to the floor.

Thulsa lashed out with his blade, splitting a zealot's skull in twain before racking his taloned hand across anothers gut, disemboweling him with ease. Pain lanced from his face, a zealots bladed flail having caressed his cheek. Thulsa caught the weapon's handle and pulled, yanking the zealot closer whilst the unstoppable warrior brought his blade down his victims shoulder, severing it along with the zealots arm in a shower of gore. Releasing the flail, Thulsa raked his micro-serrated blade-tines across the fanatics chest, the blades passing through bone and internal organs like wheat before a scythe.

Hurling the corpse aside, Thulsa continued on his killing spree with wild abandon, Morr trailing close behind. Kaiser's power sabre passed through the zealots whirring chainsword, taking half of his skull along with it. Snapping off a few shots of his splinter pistol off at a shotgun-wielding ganger, he slammed his punch-claw up into the skull of a second zealot before coiling his serpentine tail around the legs of another attempting to outflank Klovis, hurling the unfortunate zealot at the wall with an audible _'Crack'_ before he fell to the floor in a motionless heap.

Gerrock blasted a pair of gangers into red mist before headbutting a zealot into bloody ruin and backhanding another. Klovis immolated a fleeing ganger with his hand flamer and shredded two charging zealots with a single swing of his monsterous blood-choked eviscerator. Thulsa tore a bloody swath through whatever dared to stand in his path, as relentless as death himself.

The final few ganger made their escape, sprinting down an adjacent hallway as Thulsa hurled himself towards them. Of the forty gangers and zealots, only three were left, one of the remaining 'heavies' and a pair of juves all huddled together in terror on a freight elevator at the end of the corridor. Thulsa charged on even as the heavy brought his shotcannon to bear.

The enormous shotgun screamed as it sent a cloud of death at the oncoming warrior. Much of the shot pattered off of Thulsa's carapace armour or was caught by his flakweave trenchcoat, but countless more had found their way between the segmented trauma-plates, punching through the void-hardened bodysuit beneath with murderous ease. The chem-glands implanted around his withered heart shot into overtime, pumping out enough dark eldar combat drugs to make one of the vaunted Death Guard drop dead in seconds.

As countless forms of chemicals ravaged his body, Thulsa's eyes rolled back whilst he threw himself fowards. There was some thirty feet between Thulsa and the gangers, and he cleared it in three strides.

Then, only screaming could be heard, along with the sound of metal-on-bone.

* * *

Klovis gritted his teeth as he ran. He hated both himself and Thulsa in equal measure whenever this happened.

 _"No"_ He thought to himself, Thulsa was not at blame for his actions.

For twenty-two years he had tried to keep Thulsa from falling to his demons, but a man raised in the night-cities of the Dark Eldar does not survive unscathed.

Klovis shook of his line of thought, slamming his hand down on the elevators control panel.

As it slowly rose, he glanced around, staring at the trio of mutilated bodies sharing the ride.

His heart tightened as he turned away, Thulsa had been the perverted toy of the Haemonculi covens from day one, aside from the countless moments he was thrown into the gladiatorial pits of Commoragh to face off against horrors unnameable.

Thulsa had turned into another of his rages, the sheer amount of drugs that raced through his system gave him life, and would be his doom.

If Thulsa's pet Wrack was correct, then every single time he used even a single one of the dozen chem-glands surrounding his heart, another day of life was taken.

For each one of his frenzied killing sprees, an entire year.

If it continued, then even his own withered old body would outlive that of his adopted son.

As the elevator stopped at the topmost floor, Klovis's grip on his eviscerator tightened, its grip groaning in protest at his grasp.

Inaudible to the others, the old Redemptionist made an oath to himself.

 _"Even if it will cost my life, I will show that boy peace, in mind, body and soul"_

And with that said, he charged, his revving chainblade held in a two-handed grip as he hurled himself at the nearest foe he could see.


	3. The Reaving

Thulsa ducked below a crackling bolt of lightning. Leveling his graviton imploder at the offending Thallax he pulled the trigger, the resulting gravity flux turning the cyborg into a pod of crushed scrap metal dripping with milky nerve-gel and motor oil. Spinning on his heel he rent the ribcage of a grenadier apart with his ceramite vibro-cleaver, carapace armour providing little protection against Thulsa's terrible strength. Kicking the half-dead man away, he parried a blow from a power maul aimed at his face, slamming his blade up to the hilt in the grenadiers skull. Tearing it free and mag-locking his grav-imploder to the small of his back, he picked up the power maul, its flanged head still wreathed in an electric-blue field of energy.

Thulsa laughed as he batted away a gleaming mono-sword with the back of his vibro-cleaver before slamming his maul into the grenadiers head. Not even bothering to look at his handiwork, Thulsa leaped backward to avoid a swinging sledgemaul, landing nimbly on his feet. There were only three grenadiers left now, the nearest of which was the first to die.

Like a coiled spring, Thulsa darted fowards at the sledge-wielding man, his bloodied weapons at the ready. He dropped to his knees as the sledgemaul tore through the air, missing his head by mere inches. Using the momentum of his charge, he slammed his power maul into the man's right knee. The heavy flak armour and the flesh and bone beneath shattered like a glass plate as the grenadiers leg bent backward with a sickening snap. Spinning on his heel, Thulsa stabbed his vibro-blade deep into the man's side before tearing it free in a shower of bile and blood.

Pain shot through Thulsa's body as a neural whip grazed his left hand, sending his power maul clattering to the floor. Growling, he rose, licking the gore from his blade as he did so. He dodged another strike from the whip as he shot into motion. His free hand closed around the throat of the bare-headed man as he used his momentum to plunge his vibro-blade deep into the man's heart whilst they both crashed to the ground. Thulsa rose to his feet, panting from the sideaffects of the high-grade combat drugs on his system.

Tearing the blade free from its fleshy confines he glanced around at the carnage surronding him. At least two dozen bodies lay dead, most were tech-thralls and gun servitors along with the few grenadiers that had joined the battle. He picked up the power maul off of the blood soaked ground before glancing at the doorway that they had came out of. Pressing the activation rune of his power maul, he broke into a jog, then a run.

His prey was close, all that need be done was reach out and grab it by the throat.

(Insert Line Here)

The Heretek Magos Dominus Alekura stood hunched over a battered logis-engine. She had more then a hundred guards within his lair, from drug-fueled zealots to thallax cyborg's, and thay all shared one thing.

That they were all dead.

She had intially paid little attention to the intruders through the mind-impulse units and crude bionics implanted into them, thinking that it was another group of bounty hunters attempting to claim the bounty on his head just as so many others had tried before them. She was wrong.

Over the course of a mere ten minutes, the group had butchered there way through all of her guards. Even she had to admit, a Ssyth warrior, Dark Eldar Incubi, Ogryn and an old Redemptionist Priest was an unlikely group, but it was the man who led them that scared her the most.

The leader of them had gone on a killing spree, even her prized Castellax-Class Battle-Automata had been all but torn to shreds before the warrior's onslaught.

She withdrew her data-tether from the logis-engine. Her servo-arm clicked and whirred over her shoulder as she drew a baroque stubcarbine from the depths of her off-white robes, The power axe in her other hand sparked into life, its overcharged power field sending arcs of raw energy cascading off of its cog-toothed edge. With a thought she offlined the auspex built into her servo-rig as he turned to the doorway.

Her executioner approched...

(Insert Line Here)

Back on Terra...

(Insert Line Here)

Malcador looked over the group of servents arranging the room. He counted the chairs in his head, noting the lone extra.

Not long after the end of the Great Crusade, when the Emperor had given his sons the means to have families of their own, when the wives of the Primarchs had given birth to their children, the Dark Eldar had launched an attack on each of them.

Nearly all were beaten back, all but one.

On that night, the Dark Eldar had stolen the son of a demigod.

His twin sister was unharmed, save for a tiny scar on her left cheek. But of her brother, there was no sign amongst the ruined corpses.

Every Space Marine, Adeptus Arbites, Sister of Silence and Adeptus Mechanicus Magos knew to keep an eye trained on finding any trace of the boy...

...And, for the last eighteen years, not a single trace of him or the geneseed within him were found.

The Sigillite slowly shook his head.

 _'Nothing is set in stone, Malcador'_ Those were the very words the Emperor had used when he had brought the subject up.

Malcador was snapped from his thoughts as a servant approched him "My lord, which wine is best" The servant questioned. Malcador glanced a the man for a moment before pointing at the bottle of white wine.

Throne, he hated his job.

(Insert Line Here)

Thulsa nimbly ducked under the Heratek's swinging power axe. He used his momentum to his advantage and slammed his shoulder into the techpriest's torso, sending both of them sprawling to the floor. Thulsa rolled to the side just as the power axe slammed into the floor where he had been a moment before.

He lashed out with his vibro-cleaver, carving a deep gash across the Magos's power-armoured midsection. The techpriest sent Thulsa flying with an armoured backhand. He landed on his heel, spinning around with power maul at the ready as he skidded to a stop in a low crouch. The Magos's servo-arm gripped his right hand in its vice-like grip.

Thulsa parried the desending power axe with his maul before slamming it into the primary joint of the servo-arm, sending sparks flying. He brought his power maul down again before the techpriest could counter, shearing the servo-arm in half before tearing his arm free. Out of pure instinct he hurled himself backwards, the Magos's power axe missing him by a hair's breath. He rolled to his feet and spat a gobbet of blood onto the ground.

 _'At last a true fight'_ Were the words Thulsa muttered softly, rising to his full height. He cut the thick woven cord that held his flakweave trenchcoat to his torso with his vibro-cleaver before shrugging the restrictive garment off his armoured shoulders. He smiled, his lipless mouth curving into a savage grin as his eyes rolled back. Deep within his body, the xeno-crafted chem-gland's sent a fresh cocktail of Hypex, Serpentin, Grave Lotus, Painbringer and Adrenalight directly into his bloodstream.

He allowed both of his weapons clatter to the ground as his blade-tines extended from his fingertips. Each blade-tine was four inches of monomolecular-edged adamantium able to retract fully into the users hand when not in use. Thulsa's had been enhanced with a sub-dermal electro-kenetic dynamo, evidence of this became apparent when arcs of neon-blue lightning played across his outstreached fingers.

The Magos charged, as did Thulsa.

One would live, one would die.

Such was the 34th millennium.


End file.
